Chapter Text
It was a slow night at Club Falcones. As per usual, not many people had come here to eat, so food orders were few and far between. It was a slow night for tips, aka, a server’s worst nightmare. Artemis slumped down over the counter, her hair falling over her eyes. It was a Thursday night, so the only customers they had were old men hogging the barstools and a couple of college kids who wanted to “dance” their problems away.
“Business is pretty slow today, huh?” the chair on the other side of the bar scraped across the floor, and Dick sat down. He appeared to have just come from his job at the coffee shop down the road, evident with his matching black pants and shirt.
“Yeah, well, it’s the club on a Thursday,” Artemis glanced up at her friend, giving a light smirk, “What brings you here?”
“I figured I’d save you from the epitome of boredom, is all,” he tilted his head to the side, “How’d you do your presentation for Prof Kent’s class yesterday? I remember you being worried about it.”
She recalled that damned presentation that kept her up until 3 in the morning the night before, and sighed. “It went okay, I feel like my hard work paid off. What about you?”
He smirked. “I got my deadline pushed, told Prof that my grandma died. At first he didn't believe me, but then I brought on the waterworks,” Dick just looked so incredibly proud, and Artemis just looked at him and laughed.
“Again?!! I can’t believe he keeps falling for that one!” Prof Kent was, like, a serious pushover. “When’s your new deadline?”
He thought for a moment. “The last day before spring break, I think?” She looked at him in awe, proud of her best friend. Then, she reached out for a fist-bump, snorting in laughter. She felt the buzz of her watch, her stomach dropping. “I need to go use the bathroom, okay?”
She closed the stall door shut, the lock clicking behind her. She clicked a button on the side of her watch, noticing a green text bubble on the screen. She hesitated before clicking on it, taking a deep breath and looking up at the light on the ceiling. When she looked back down at the watch, she drew her eyebrows together and read:
[NEW TARGET]
Target name: Rudolph West
Age: 45-60 range
Mission: collect intel about his whereabouts, report back to HQ in 48 hours.
[link to file]
She sighed, clicking on the file link. Usually there was more information including the target’s home address, license plate number, marital status, occupation, etc. However, this time, all that was listed was his occupation, marital status, and one son named Wally West.
She silently cursed to herself, she needed at least an address in order to find him. And it’s not like she could just google “Rudolph West” on whitepages to find him: Falcone’s men were notorious for their thorough online research. If it was on whitepages, it would be in his file. Damn, this must be a high-security dude!
She read on. She was surprised to find out that Wally West also had a little bit of a profile, although she was mildly underwhelmed when she saw it was simply an address. No description, no plate number, just an address, complete with an apartment number. However: this was much better than nothing. She started to form a plan. First, she wanted to check out the address she did have: Wally West’s.
When her shift ended at 11:30, she clocked out, counting her tips. 15..20..30..31… wait… this is it? She scrunched up her nose. This has got to be the worst night for tips yet!! She pocketed the money, putting her name tag away and tying up her hair before stepping out into the cool winter air. Well.. late winter in Gotham. The breeze felt nice on her bare arms.
She checked the address on her watch over again, making sure she was at the right place. 14087 Cardinal Place, Apt #2. She figured that, since it was past midnight, it wouldn’t be a huge deal if she drove into the lot, but her better judgment made her decide to park in another nearby lot. She pulled up to a more secluded spot, the apartment complex still in view. She turned the car completely off to avoid suspicion. She took out her newly-issued binoculars and zoomed in on a door with a number next to it which read “2”. This was it! This was the place! She zoomed back out, noticing there was a light on in the apartment. It wasn’t abnormal for a person to be awake past midnight, but it still took Artemis by slight surprise. She looked over at the cars in the apartment’s lot. She looked for spot number two, assuming the spots coordinated with apartment numbers, and low and behold an old, red Ford Mustang sat in the spot. This was no Prius: it was actually pretty sleek for an older car. She giggled to herself. Looks like someone’s compensating for something! She put a hand over her mouth, remembering this was not the time. She zoomed in her binoculars on the plate number, typing the seven digits into a locked note on her phone labeled “birthday presents”. (Hey, better safe than sorry!) She clicked her phone off, getting ready to pull out of the lot and turn in for the night. Suddenly, she noticed shifting in the window of the apartment. She put her binoculars back up to her face, zooming in. The image that greeted her was of a shirtless young man with a head of messy red hair, back towards the window. Her eyes widened, and her first instinct was to pull out of the lot and drive away. No, you idiot! If you do that, he’ll notice you! Instead, she was forced to sit in the lot, trying not to let her heart beat right out of her chest as she sat in almost complete silence. She had yanked her binoculars from her face, but then put them back on as she waited for the guy to move away from the window. So this is what Wally West looks like… he’s not terrible looking. No, Artemis, don’t think like that! You’re on a mission! This is for work! She totally didn’t analyze the muscles on his back, catching herself before she started to drool. No, no no. I cannot think like this right now. This time, she took off her binoculars and shoved them back in the glove box. She’d just have to wait until the lights in the room turn off, then she’d drive away.
Five minutes passed, and the lights in apartment two were off, so Artemis swiftly turned on the ignition and made her escape.
When she stepped through the door of her dorm, she found her roommate, Barbara, dead asleep in the bed across from hers. It’s a good thing that girl sleeps like a log, Artemis thought. She grabbed her toiletry bag and walked to the communal bathrooms to wash up.
After washing up and changing into comfier clothes, Artemis practically fell into her bed, passing right out at 1:30. Barbara turned over, wondering to herself: why was Arty out so late?